It's now been twelve years since I was diagnosed with PCOS. While I've come to accept and live with it wholeheartedly, I still send a loving barrage of disappointed expletives to my uterus every month. Or every other month. Or every few months. Or twice a month. All dependent on how often my ovaries choose to throw a physiological tantrum.
PCOS, or Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome is a complex hormonal disorder which affects about 1 in 5 women in India, albeit in very different ways. Even though it's something so frightfully common (where mentioning I have PCOS triggers multiple, "so do I!" responses among my female friend circles) it is widely misunderstood, or simply not understood. Put lightly, PCOS is an imbalance in the release of 'male' and 'female' hormones. Often those with PCOS have higher levels of androgen and testosterone which throws the regular 28-day menstrual cycle off whack. Periods become irregular or may not come at all. The ovaries often collect fluid in and around their developing eggs, forming cysts. Because of this, the cysterhood of eggs stick together and may not release into the uterus in a timely manner.
This syndrome (or way of life, as I have come to know it) could occur due to increased androgen levels or genetics (brought to you by sexual-selection-avoiding humans). Both these leave you predisposed to PCOS, at times manageable through stringently maintained,painfully healthy lifestyles.
While it's difficult to explain exactly what's going on inside my body to someone who's never had to deal with PCOS - or in the case of men, with periods itself - it's actually pretty straight forward. PCOS could lead to irregular/scanty/heavy/no periods. It could manifest as acne, hair loss, weight gain (hello, my puberty), facial hair or the inability to conceive. However, it doesn't mean every woman has to put up with them all. I have to deal with weight gain, hair loss and severe cramping regardless of whether an egg descends from my ovaries that month or not. Someone else may break out with acne despite being twenty years out of their teenager phase and still have just the right amount of adipose. Fact of the matter is, it's a painand we don't know what's going on with our bodies either. Sadly, in the long run, PCOS isn't just a monthly bother. It could pave the way to obesity, heart disease, infertility or diabetes.
While my reproductive organs down there are taking holidays and see-sawing on imbalanced hormones, my brain wallows in confusion and disorientation. PCOS causes mental and physiological stress, since the body is constantly trying to cope with unpredictable cycles, fluctuations and discomfort. In addition, it leaves one vulnerable to depression, anxiety and eating disorders. I've been battling with societal depictions of what the ideal woman ought to look and feel like for years on end, and body positivity does not come easily. How can I love my body when it feels like it doesn't love me? It's a cyclic conundrum, just like my primary dysmenorrhea (the uterus never stops throwing curve balls).
Having symptoms crop up through the cycle (or another non-round shape) each month has taken me down many a Google search, desperate for answers, solutions or comfort. But all this has ever done is is feed my reason for worry. I've assumed the worst, like ovarian cancer, convinced myself of parthenogenic pregnancy or thought I was abnormally messed up in the lady parts. Fact of the matter remains that a gynecologist is always the one to provide maximum emotional comfort - provided you find a non-judgmental one. Since PCOS affects each woman so differently, it's terribly hard to find universal symptoms online - or even the right combination - to fit everything you're going through perfectly. Only a gynecologist can listen to your woes, look you in the ovaries and assure you that it'll be alright (maybe with a little customised treatment and exercise). No matter how much inertia there may be, it helps to visit one, just for the peace of mind if not solutions. You'll be okay. I'll be okay. The entire cysterhood will be okay. Not great, but we'll take what we get, just like our PCOS.
PCOS, or Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome is a complex hormonal disorder which affects about 1 in 5 women in India, albeit in very different ways. Even though it's something so frightfully common (where mentioning I have PCOS triggers multiple, "so do I!" responses among my female friend circles) it is widely misunderstood, or simply not understood. Put lightly, PCOS is an imbalance in the release of 'male' and 'female' hormones. Often those with PCOS have higher levels of androgen and testosterone which throws the regular 28-day menstrual cycle off whack. Periods become irregular or may not come at all. The ovaries often collect fluid in and around their developing eggs, forming cysts. Because of this, the cysterhood of eggs stick together and may not release into the uterus in a timely manner.
This syndrome (or way of life, as I have come to know it) could occur due to increased androgen levels or genetics (brought to you by sexual-selection-avoiding humans). Both these leave you predisposed to PCOS, at times manageable through stringently maintained,
While it's difficult to explain exactly what's going on inside my body to someone who's never had to deal with PCOS - or in the case of men, with periods itself - it's actually pretty straight forward. PCOS could lead to irregular/scanty/heavy/no periods. It could manifest as acne, hair loss, weight gain (hello, my puberty), facial hair or the inability to conceive. However, it doesn't mean every woman has to put up with them all. I have to deal with weight gain, hair loss and severe cramping regardless of whether an egg descends from my ovaries that month or not. Someone else may break out with acne despite being twenty years out of their teenager phase and still have just the right amount of adipose. Fact of the matter is, it's a pain
While my reproductive organs down there are taking holidays and see-sawing on imbalanced hormones, my brain wallows in confusion and disorientation. PCOS causes mental and physiological stress, since the body is constantly trying to cope with unpredictable cycles, fluctuations and discomfort. In addition, it leaves one vulnerable to depression, anxiety and eating disorders. I've been battling with societal depictions of what the ideal woman ought to look and feel like for years on end, and body positivity does not come easily. How can I love my body when it feels like it doesn't love me? It's a cyclic conundrum, just like my primary dysmenorrhea (the uterus never stops throwing curve balls).
Having symptoms crop up through the cycle (or another non-round shape) each month has taken me down many a Google search, desperate for answers, solutions or comfort. But all this has ever done is is feed my reason for worry. I've assumed the worst, like ovarian cancer, convinced myself of parthenogenic pregnancy or thought I was abnormally messed up in the lady parts. Fact of the matter remains that a gynecologist is always the one to provide maximum emotional comfort - provided you find a non-judgmental one. Since PCOS affects each woman so differently, it's terribly hard to find universal symptoms online - or even the right combination - to fit everything you're going through perfectly. Only a gynecologist can listen to your woes, look you in the ovaries and assure you that it'll be alright (maybe with a little customised treatment and exercise). No matter how much inertia there may be, it helps to visit one, just for the peace of mind if not solutions. You'll be okay. I'll be okay. The entire cysterhood will be okay. Not great, but we'll take what we get, just like our PCOS.
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